Suicidal Tendencies
by Kath3rin
Summary: After that cold October night, Wisteria Potter was never the same.
1. Chapter 1

Everyone at Privet Drive always knew that something was wrong with the Dursley's neice. She was never seen outside, except during the spring, but only in the backyard, and at night, screams could be heard from the house.

Then on one fateful day in 1985, it got too much and an ambulance was called to the Dursley home at 4 Privet Drive. Neighbors left their homes to see the little girl being led out of the home on a stretcher, blood covering her face and hands. She wasn't seen again at the house until 1987, but then left after another 'episode' a couple of months later.

Wisteria Asterids Potter was truly a troubled child.

On November 1st, 1981, the day started out crisp and fresh for Petunia Dursley. Everything was perfect. Vernon's, Petunia's husband, breakfast came out perfect, and their son Dudley had a full night sleep and was complacent when Petunia woke him up that November morning. She left him in his walking chair as she left to pick up the mail and milk. After stooping to pick up the mail, she opened up the front door, but a horrifying sight that shook her to the core stopped her in her tracks.

She dropped the mail and shrieked, "VERNON!" Her husband barreled out of the kitchen and down the hall to his wife. He pulled her aside and gasped at the sight, his face turning a puce color.

A baby in a basket, wrapped up in a violet blanket, with a letter resting on her chest laid out on their front stoop.

Vernon quickly picked up the little package, and quickly looked around at the neighboring house, making sure that no one else saw the baby. The baby yawned, and stretched her little arms out. She rubbed her eyes, pushing her long hair out of her face, showing a long jagged scar on her forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Oh, Vernon, what are we going to do? My freak sister left her kid here!"

"Hush Pet and read the letter. There has to be meaning behind all this."

Petunia unpinned the letter from the girl's blanket and ripped it open, skimming over the letter. Her hand rose to her mouth, face paled, and she gasped. Her hand dropped to her side, dropping the letter. Her eyes glazed over in shock

Impatient, Vernon urged Petunia to tell him what is going on. "Come on, Pet, what did the letter say?" He kneeled down to pick up the letter, steadying himself on the front door. The front door groaned from the morbid weight. He looked down at the letter in his hands, eyes skimming it while urging Petunia to tell him what she had read.

"Her name is Wisteria Asterids Potter. Her parents, James and Lily Potter are dead, and we must take her in because we are her only blood relatives left in this world. It says that if we take her in, we'll have protection from those that killed her parents. My sister…"

Petunia gazed at the rising sun, a thoughtful expression also rising on her equine face.

"Well, then it looks like we're stuck here. But she can't take Marge's room, or Dudley's rooms. Where should we put her?"

They stood there, Vernon holding Wisteria, before they looked at each other, then turned spotting the cupboard under the stairs.

Things were fine in the Dursley home at the start of the Potter babe living there. She was unusually quiet, never crying for anything. It was easy to forget about her until certain nights where she wouldn't fall asleep. There were never any tears but she would scream her lungs out through the night. When Petunia went down to the cupboard, she would just sit on her cot and stare at her, still screaming, and point at the far corner of the dark little cupboard.

During the day, Petunia was always busy with Dudley, so she would sit Wisteria in a corner with one of Dudley's rejected broken toys. She would stare at the ceiling, reach at a certain ceiling, and clap her hands.

One day, Dudley tried to take a forgotten teddy bear away from Wisteria, the sad little bear only had on eye, the other eye had long fallen off from one of Dudley's major temper tantrums.

But Wisteria screeched and clawed at Dudley's face, her eyes changing into an insidious red. Petunia snatched her large child out of Wisteria's grasp and slapped the child across her face. Wisteria plopped down on the carpet, tears starting to peak around her eyes, upper lip quivering, but the tears never fell.

Her little hands curled into fists, and her eyes flashed red again, and she started to bang her fists against her head, pulling at her hair in a mad rage. Petunia quickly put Dudley in his walking chair, his little feet barely touching the floor and ran back to Wisteria, picking her up and pulling her hands away from her face.

Her hands quickly grabbed Petunia's hair and ripped it from the strict bun, screaming. Petunia almost dropped Wisteria, but swatted her on her bottom. She dropped her as she started to thrash and scream, and Wisteria quickly started to bash her head against the floor this time.

Petunia didn't know what to do. Dudley never had any temper tantrums this bad before, she had no experience. She pushed his walking chair with Dudley out of the room and left Wisteria by herself. Wisteria had knocked herself out, her scar open and weeping blood as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks.

Petunia couldn't believe that a little two year old child could do so much damage. Her curly black hair was stuck to her neck with sweat, and her cheeks were a rosy color. After wiping up the blood and tears from Wisteria's face, Petunia quickly placed the little girl in the cupboard and locked the door.

When Vernon got home from work that night, they discussed her little episode, and decided that it would be a one time thing, and if it occurred again, they would give her a real reason to cry and send her to the cupboard without dinner.

Sadly, it did occur again, this time with Vernon home.

They were sitting in the family room, a large fireplace sitting at the far wall, in front of the telly. Wisteria was happily playing with that sad teddy bear in front of the fire, when her eyes flashed again. She stood up the only way a toddler could, bending forward, unevenly and pushed herself up. She stood in front of the fireplace grate, keeping the fire back, and wobbled, staring at the fire for a few moments.

The Dursley's were busy with a cartoon playing on the television to pay attention to the little girl, when they heard a scream. She was sitting off to the side of the fireplace now, blood streaming down her face. Petunia could see a large chunk of skin stuck to the brick fireplace. Not looking, Vernon yelled at Wisteria to shut up, but Petunia shushed him, and ran to Wisteria, picking her up like a football and left the house. She got into the family car with Wisteria in the passenger seat.

She sped all the way to the hospital, and carried Wisteria to the emergency room. One look from the nurse, they quickly brought Wisteria to a room and got a doctor, bypassing all those that were waiting. Her forehead was quickly cleaned and stitched, Wisteria crying the whole time. The doctor, nurse, and a detective interrogated Petunia on what happened, but she couldn't tell what happened. She told them that Wisteria was playing by the fireplace with her favorite teddy bear, and that she went into the kitchen for a quick second to grab a drink, when she heard screaming, and she saw her niece sitting in front of the fire with blood streaming down her face, and she just ran out if the house to get over to the hospital.

They let her leave the hospital with Wisteria with the promise to come back if the gash on her forehead reopens, and to remove the stitches in two weeks. Petunia quickly agreed and drove back home. The detective let Petunia off with a warning and if Wisteria was in the E.R. again they would be sending in CPS.

Things with Wisteria cooled down for the next three years with only occasional temper tantrums from Wisteria. There were only slight scares where Petunia would catch Wisteria trying to hurt herself. She grabbed a fork and was poking at her scars on her forehead, trying to cut off the skin. She slowly stopped trying to grab at the fork after multiple tries had failed.

Wisteria never spoke, even at the age of five. Dudley was in kindergarten, but Petunia held Wisteria, explaining to the school board that she was not mentally prepared to start school so early. She brought Wisteria with her to the board and showed that the little girl was still not potty trained, and just sat on the ground, still with that now ratty teddy bear.

They tried to get Wisteria to speak to them, but she just stared at them, then started screeching. She stood up and toddled towards Petunia and sat on the floor behind her chair. The school board excused Wisteria from school, and gave Petunia a list of pediatricians, speech therapists, psychologists and psychiatrists specialized in autism and selective mutism. There was even suggestions of an intellectual disability and talk of special education.

It was after years of complacency that Wisteria struck. She was sitting in the kitchen, mumbling to herself, after a successful appointment with her speech therapist, when she stood up and ran at the countertop corner. Petunia tried to grab her as she streaked past her from her spot at the sink, washing dishes, but Wisteria slipped out of her soapy hands. She struck her face on the corner and bounced back onto the floor, hands flying towards her face. She started to mumble to herself louder, and rock herself, holding her face.

Petunia crouched in front of her and pulled her hands from her face and regretted it. She cut her forehead against the corner, and her eye popped out of the socket, hanging off of the optic nerve. The eye was almost flat, like a popped balloon, intraocular fluid dripping from the pupil. Wisteria started to howl, and Petunia yelled for Vernon. Vernon barreled into the room, but quickly backed out.

"Vernon! Call an ambulance. I cant get the bleeding to stop!"

Help quickly arrived at 4 Privet Drive. Neighbors left their house to stare as the blood covered child was carried out of the house strapped down on a stretcher, with Petunia running after them, her light cardigan covered in blood.

She pulled herself in the ambulance after Wisteria and the ambulance sped away. Dudley and Vernon stood in the open doorway of the house, watching the vehicle drive away.

Mrs. Figg from across the street walked over to the house, trying to see what was going on, but Vernon dodged her questions and just said it was a terrible kitchen accident, closing the door in her face.


	2. Chapter 2

Arriving at the hospital, Wisteria was quickly moved into surgery, trying to save her eye, but it was useless. The iris was completely destroyed, and the optic nerve was damaged.

Wisteria was going to lose an eye.

Petunia sat in the waiting room, wringing her hands, anxiously waiting for news of her niece, wanting to go home. It was two hours after their arrival that a nurse entered the room.

"Wisteria Potter's guardian?" She called, looking around the almost empty room. There were only three people in the waiting room, a middle-aged woman in a lavender cardigan, the front covered in blood, a middle-aged man in a black tracksuit, and an elderly man, with his wooden cane leaning against the wall.

Petunia quickly stood up, and marched towards the nurse, "How is she? How much will this cost me?"

Petunia was quickly interrupted by the nurse, "The doctor has some concerns about her mental health. In her medical history, it shows that this has occurred before. Are there any minor difficulties that you had with Wisteria that is not listed?"

"Well, her parents died shortly after her first birthday. She came to us with a large ugly scar on her forehead. She is a quiet child, with loud violent outbursts. When she does cry, it's like the world ended. She would beat her little fists at her face at first, but it escalated to running at walls, and grabbing at forks to stab herself or those around her with. There was the fireplace incident when she was two, now she ran at the countertop corner. Why is she doing this?"

"Well, she lost her left eye. The optic nerve was too damaged to repair, and her iris was torn. She has fifteen stitches overall. We want her to stay overnight for observation. There's a minor concussion, and Dr. Wahl is concerned about her mental state. She recommends taking her to get a CAT scan and a MRI. She wants to make sure everything upstairs checks out okay. These are two prescriptions for antipsychotics and a tranquilizer. They need to be taken every morning and evening before any 'incidents' on a set schedule. They can be chewed, or ground down into a pudding, ice cream, or anything gelatin. The worse side effects should be a loss of appetite and lethargy."

Petunia took the slip of paper with chicken scratch all over the paper. She slowly nodded towards the nurse.

"Is she in a hospital room now? Can I see her?"

"She's in room 204. I'll show you the way." She nurse walked past Petunia down a separate hall. Turning down another hall, at the very end, she opened the door.

Wisteria looked so small in that hospital room. Petunia pulled a chair to the bed and sat down, grabbing the young child's hand. Wisteria turned towards Petunia, her right eye glazed, unseeing. Petunia's lower lip quivered at the sight of the eye patch covering her left eye, and all the scars and stitches on her forehead and around her eye socket. Petunia couldn't understand why she was feeling so much for this little girl.

She reminded her so much of her sister, that it hurt. Petunia regrets never healing their torn relationship, she was lost in her grief, jealousy and hatred to see that Lily was not the reason for her parents death, or their blunt favoritism. Petunia was always jealous of how people gravitated towards Lily, how carefree and full of kindness her younger sister was.

As the elder sister, it was her job to protect her, but when she turned eleven, she was swallowed up into the magical world with no sisterly protection, leaving Petunia behind.

Everything in the magical world sounded so wonderful. You could do anything, heal anything there, but Petunia couldn't be apart of that. And now this lost looking little girl in the hospital bed is soon going to be lost there as well. If things turned out differently, if there was nothing wrong with Wisteria, Petunia would've tried to teach the little girl that magic wasn't real, and try to get that awful thing out of her, anyway that she could. But now there were bigger things to deal with.

She had to talk to Dr. Wahl about more treatment, should there be an actual problem with her niece. With Dudley in the house, she couldn't stay any longer. Petunia was sure that he would start having nightmares, especially now that they're older and he actually saw the aftermath of one of her 'episodes'.

Wisteria Potter had to leave.

After the ambulance left 4 Privet Drive and Vernon Dursley closed the door in Arabella Figgs face, she ambled home and flooed Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts and leader of the Order of the Phoenix. She was placed in her home at Privet Drive by him with the very mission to make sure that Wisteria Potter remained safe, and since her health was at risk, it was necessary to alert Dumbledore. She stuck her head into the fire and quickly called out into the headmaster's office, "Albus! Albus, it's an emergency! I must speak with you quickly!"

Dumbledore strode across the office to his fireplace and squatted over the fire, looking into Arabella's aged face. "What is it, my dear? What's wrong with Wisteria?"

"She was just taken away in one of those muggle contraptions with all the lights. There was blood all over her hands and face. Her lovely aunt, Petunia, got into the thing after her. I think she was with her when something terrible happened. There was blood all over her lovely cardigan. I tried to get information out of the husband, but he only said it was a kitchen accident. Then he had the nerve to slam the door into my face. The nerve of these muggles these days! Never in my life has that occurred to me! I ought to go over the-"

"Arabella, please. You can go over there later and talk to Vernon Dursley, but please step away from the fireplace. I need to floo to your home to speak with the remaining Dursleys'. I have to know that Wisteria is safe and sound."

"Alright, Albus." Arabella sighed, and grabbed onto the mantle and pulled herself up, her old knees creaking as they stretched out.

Dumbledore quickly flooed over as soon as she was away from the fireplace. He put an apologetic hand on her shoulder as he passed her already on his way out the front door without a word. He fast walked, almost jogging, across the street as quick as his old bones could take him and knocked on the Dursley's door. Dudley answered the door and immediately yelled, "DAD" at the sight of Dumbledore. His long beard was tied near the tip with a light blue ribbon, and on top of his head sat a nightcap beaded with glittering stars. He was dressed in luminescent violet and lime green robes, with lemon yellow piping. Vernon bustled over to the front door, and one look at Dumbledore, he quickly slammed the door, but Dumbledore's foot got caught in the way.

Wincing, Dumbledore amiably said, "You must not have seen me. I'm Albus Dumbledore. I'm here to inquire about the health of the young Miss Wisteria Potter. It was brought to my attention that she was taken away in a muggle vehicle with your wife this afternoon."

"It was nothing major. She ran into the corner of a countertop. She doesn't pay attention much when she's playing and Petunia was busy washing the dishes and only saw the aftermath. She'll call soon from the hospital with news. I would go right now, but with Dudley here, I don't want to bring him into that kind of environment if necessary."

"I understand. If you could just tell Arabella Figg across the street of Wisteria's health after she returns, I would be forever grateful."

"Okay." Dumbledore removed his foot from the doorway, and Vernon quickly closed the door, ending all conversation without a goodbye.

He thought out loud, "Oh, Pet, you best call soon with news. I don't want anymore of those freaks walking up to my door." Dudley stood in the living room, peaking around the corner at his father.

_It might be time to leave Privet Drive and Wisteria behind, _Vernon thought as he wiped his hand down his face, brushing down his thick mustache.

Wisteria Potter had to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

"We need to further investigate Wisteria's home. There is no way a well-adjusted child would just throw herself at a countertop. Those blasted muggles did something to her!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed at Dumbledore in the kitchen at the Burrow. Dumbledore was sitting, rather dejectedly, at the kitchen table, holding onto a bright yellow teacup for dear life.

"I know, my dear, but we can't do anything about it. She needs to be there for her own good. Without the blood wards and the protection that the Dursley's provide Wisteria would be found by any Death Eaters, and out only hope would be lost."

"You can't put the fate of our world on the shoulders of a little girl, Albus. I know what the prophecy says, but You-Know-Who is gone. We need to see how those muggles are treating her. You heard what Arabella said. She's been taken to the hospital after running into a counter! With all seven of my children, none of them have ever done anything like that!"

"No, no, Molly, my dear. We should leave the Dursleys' alone for now. Petunia may not have the same amount of experience in rearing children as you, she does have her own child. Muggles most likely raise their children differently. Maybe in a rougher household, but those bloodwards are the only thing protecting little Wisteria from dark wizards and witches that wish to do her harm. If she continues to show signs of abuse, we will encourage them to stop, if not, then we'll remove her from that environment. But only if there is no other option."

The next day, Petunia found herself sitting in a waiting room with Vernon at St. Dale's Home For The Mentally Ill. They had an appointment with Dr. Krysten, the facilities head psychiatrist about the admittance of Wisteria. A short mature woman with short wispy hair knocked on the wall of the waiting room from the hallway to the offices holding a clipboard. She was dressed in light green scrubs, and white keds.

She read off the board, "Dursleys' for Krysten. He is ready for you, please come this way." With a swoop of her left arm she gestures to the hallway behind her and turns around, waiting for them to join her. Once Petunia and Vernon joined her, she walked quickly down the hall, so quickly that the Dursleys' were struggling to keep up with her. Thankfully after weaving through the maze of hallways, they reached a set of dark mahogany doors with a gold placard on the left door.

**Dr. Leonard Krysten**

**Head of Psychiatry**

**Room 306**

The nurse knocked on the door for them, gave Petunia a small smile and quickly left, eyes back down on her clipboard.

"Come in."

The voice was deep and raspy, like sandpaper rubbing against sandpaper. An old man sat behind a large desk in a grand leather chair. It seemed to swallow him, drag him back into the crevices. His thin papery hands were clasped in front of his face in a mock-prayer. He raised a shaky hand gesturing to the tiny puke green upholstered chairs sitting in front of his desk. They looked as though they belong in the 60s. The chairs shook and groaned as Vernon and Petunia sat down. Petunia clutching her purse close to her chest as Vernon kept adjusting, trying to get comfortable in the tiny plastic chair.

"So this is about your charge, Wisteria Asterids Potter. She is currently admitted to London General Hospital due to self mutilation, correct?"

"Yes. She ran straight into the corner of a kitchen counter while I was washing dishes."

"We just need you to sign these forms for our own evaluation, and if all goes well, sign and initial these four forms for admittance." He pushed a dull yellow folder towards Vernon with a pen. He reached forward and grabbed the folder, opening it to sign all the papers inside.

"The hospital shall release her into our custody in a week, giving her sufficient time to heal before we determine her mental state. Upon admittance, you won't be able to visit for another week, while we get her settled into a set schedule. Any visitation will have to be between the hours 9a. and 2p.m." He pressed a buzzer on his desk, calling for a nurse. "I'll see you in two weeks."

As far back as she can remember, Wisteria was trapped in her mind and body, forever crying out and not being heard. After the green night, there was a dark voice in her head that would never leave her alone. It was always screaming at her, clawing at her brain, and the pain was never ending.

The voice was so loud, it made thinking hard. Whenever she tried to quiet the voice, the tall woman almost always stopped her. The voice wouldn't let her speak, all she could do was scream and cry for help. There was small moments of release when he pain knocked her out, or whenever she had a successful attempt at blocking out the voice.

There were days when the voice was in control, always watching, listening. It would punish Wisteria when she fought back, claw at her own face, throw herself down the stairs, stab at her hands with forks. It took away the light that was inside of her, and locked it away.

It wasn't until she was left at that strange place that everything changed.

The walls were padded, as were the floor and ceiling. A small cot with a thin bare mattress lay at the far left corner, and a small barred window sat on the far wall up near the ceiling. The panes were dirty and no natural light made it through. Next to the padded door was a small open bin with what little came with her. A small worn stuffed bear, three pairs of socks, undergarments, and four pairs of thin linen pants and shirts.

She would spend hours locked away in that room, the voice throwing herself into the walls, screaming until tall men and women would open the door and stick needles in her neck, making her sleep. They would bring trays filled with thin soup, dry bread and water by her bed and she was always watched when she would actually eat.

Every morning, they would wake her up at dawn, and bring her to a warm room where a woman waited for her. Wisteria could never remember her name, but she would talk other, ask questions and pause, expecting something from her. Wisteria never spoke back. She could barely remember how to talk, and the voice was too loud for her to hear what the woman was even saying. Even now she was sitting in that warm room, watching the strange woman's mouth move.

"-steria?"

She looked up at the woman's dull brown eyes. They looked almost dead, like she had started to give up on the world. Wisteria let her head tilt to the side, and grunted.

"Wisteria, are you listening? This is our third session, and you haven't said a word. I have spoken to your speech therapist, Ms. Thompson, you have made progress with speech and comprehension. I only want to help you become stable, an independent member of society. I can only do that with your help and support. "

A thin raspy voice broke the silence, "Sh-sh-shut u-up, I-I wa-wanna h-hear the voi-voice."

The sounds that came out of Wisteria's mouth weren't that of a young girl, but the crackling voice of an old woman. The lack of use of her vocal chords left them weak and easily torn, the only noise ever leaving her throat being screams and cries.

The psychiatrist was shocked, _Finally, a reaction. Only… which voice does she want to hear?_

"Wisteria, honey? Do you want to hear my voice? Whose voice are you listening to right now?"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP-"

"Orderly! I need help in here!"

Wisteria started smacking at her face, tearing at her eye patch. She managed to tear it off, revealing the weeping empty eye socket beneath it, scar tissue around the edges. The lightning bolt scar above her empty left eye was bright red and swollen against her pale sweaty skin.

A barrel-bodied man rushed into the room, panting and bald head gleaming. He grabbed Wisteria's hands in one large hand, pulling her forward and injecting her with a tranquilizer with the other.

"SHUTUPSHUTSHUTUP shu…" Wisteria was knocked out, slumped down into the chest of the orderly.

"Get her back to her room, Westley."

"Of course, Dr. Perkins."


	4. Parasite

It was supposed to be a simple night. Kill the Chosen One and her rebel family, that was it. That rat told me where they were hidden away, and they didn't even have any proper protection besides the cowardly Secret Keeper.

_So why am I waking up in a crib in a blown apart nursery, stuck in the head of a crying toddler? How do I get out of here? Wait… is that Snape? That traitor! Weeping over the corpse of that despicable mudblood! _

"Move you disgusting cretin!" He shouted at the silently weeping toddler. "You imbecilic half breed! Let me out!"

Snape had already left, hardly sparing a glance at the toddler, and the puddle of clothes in front of the crib. A loud motor could be heard rumbling in the air. The house shook as a man stomped through the house, calling out for survivors.

"James? Lily? Where are yo- James! No- where's the little bambi?"

He pushed aside the broken door away from the doorway, bursting into the nursery, "Bambi!"

"Pafoo!"

'Pafoo' kneeled in front of the crib, reaching through the bars for Wisteria. "It'll be fine Ria, i'll find the rat that did this and make him pay. I'll be with you soon. Help should be here soon."

He left Wisteria behind.

"It's alright little one. You just need to let go, everything will be fine." He promised the little girl, but he kept pulling. He wouldn't leave her alone. The more in pain she was, the more in control he was.

He was a parasite.

That useless horse woman tried to stop him, but she was slipping. He was regaining his strength, throwing the girl into corners, fireplaces, stabbing herself with forks, scratching at her face. He even took one of her eyes.

_I need more, but they locked us away in this asylum. I promised myself that this would never happen again. These weak muggles don't know how weak and stupid they truly are. They should have just fallen under my control, with all their 'freedom' they spend it subjugating others._

He knew that his way of thinking could be viewed as warped, but the ends justify the means. He knew his limits, what not to do. Magic would finally, truly, be free. Witches and wizards wouldn't have to cower behind wards, afraid of the lowly pigs that populate this world. That old buffoon should have left it well enough alone. The parasite thought that he of all would understand the need for true freedom. He planned with Grindlewald, his own father knew the dangers of muggles- what they did to poor Ariana.

But when he looked at the parasite- at Tom Riddle- all he saw was a poor, lonely orphan boy. A thief, a bully, Dumbledore thought he was a lost muggleborn. But he found his family, his lineage. Both sides were disappointments- inbred squibs and arrogant, willfully ignorant pissants.

This world needed to be cleansed.


End file.
